"Not 'til I'm certain you won't be doin' anything rash—"
"Devil take it, Yarden." Hux's words bristled with impatience. "I will fire your arse if you do not free me this instant."
At the imperious command, William rolled his eyes at Jessop. "Sounds like 'e's back to 'imself, alright. Keep an eye on 'im, Jessop, while I see to the other bloke."
Hux came to me where I had managed to sit up against the desk. Kneeling, he gently cupped my chin. The vivid remorse in his gaze made my throat close.
"It's a-alright," I managed. "I am fine. You didn't hurt me."
"Abigail, I ..." His voice faded. I felt the tremor of his hand as it passed lightly over my hair.
Aware of Jessop's inquisitive hovering, I mumbled, "'Tis probably best if you take that walk, my lord. It will calm your nerves." I averted my gaze to William, who was nudging Derrick with the toe of his boot. The footman moaned and clutched his hands to his head. "Detective Yarden looks to have everything managed here."
"You are concerned about my nerves? God, Abigail, I almost ..." White lines bracketed his mouth. Abruptly, he got to his feet and raked his hands through his disheveled hair. "You are right. I should go."
"I will see to Miss Jones, my lord," Jessop said.
After a last look at me, Hux strode from the room. I stared after him, my insides awash with the aftershock of violence and the helpless despair I had seen in his eyes.
"You have suffered a shock," the butler said. "Shall I call Mrs. Beecher for you?"
I shook my head quickly. "No. That is, I think it best we keep this matter as quiet as possible, don't you, Mr. Jessop?"
Something like approval softened the butler's expression. "Allow me to help you to your room, then."
As he assisted me to my feet, I glanced over the portrait. She was once more shrouded in shadow. But I thought I saw a flicker in those wicked eyes, a spark of malicious glee amidst the falling darkness.
THIRTY
After Mr. Jessop left me, I lay in my bed, not expecting to sleep. My mind reeling from the events of the afternoon. Hux's unearthly rage over the footman's thievery. The way he'd almost lost control, the fear-inspiring righteousness that had possessed him as he punished those who disobeyed. And then the repentance, the bright torment in his eyes when he had returned to himself. God, Abigail, I almost ...
Shock must have delivered my body into slumber, for I opened my eyes sometime later to a darkened room. My body ached. My mouth felt dry, as if I had travelled miles without replenishment. Getting up, I fumbled to light the lamp on the dresser. The glow illuminated the clock. Half-past five. I had dozed for almost an hour. Spotting the tray on the desk, I went over and sent Mr. Jessop silent thanks as I gulped down two cups of the minted tea. I helped myself to smoked ham sandwiched between slices of thick, buttered bread and cogitated over my options as I chewed.
After the preceding hours, the notion of blurting out my secret identity to Hux seemed at best foolhardy ... and at worst suicidal. Though I did not believe Hux would willfully harm me, I was less certain that the holy force that had possessed him this afternoon had the same compunction. Angelic that power may be, but its lethality matched that of its dark counterpart. No, I needed a foolproof way of convincing Hux that I was not evil—or I might lose more than his love.
I swallowed, my throat forcing down the suddenly tasteless food. I required proof of my fidelity to him ... of my commitment to the light and my abhorrence of darkness ...
My mind returned to the painting. I realized now why my attempt at generating a vision had not worked. The spells came only from objects that had been in bodily contact with demons. Though the painting depicted Lilith, she herself obviously had not touched it. Sighing, I drank the remainder of the tea. It had been a worthy notion; if I could somehow learn to use the power of the cross to dispel the visions, I had a chance of convincing Hux of my sincere intentions. To prove to him I did not want these dashed windows into prurience any more than he'd wanted to be preyed upon by Lilith.
For this I needed some article that a demon had handled ...
The cup clattered against the saucer as I set it down with sudden force.
Of course! But is it still there? And dare I try to retrieve it?
Pulse skittering, I went to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. The empty corridor flickered in front of me. From below stairs, I heard the muffled clamors of meal time. The staff ate in various shifts throughout the day to accommodate the household needs. Amongst this earlier dinner shift would be Mr. Donovan; 'twas the valet's habit of supping early so that he would be ready to attend to Hux's bath and evening preparations. So long as Hux was still out riding—and he was wont to do so for hours—I might just have a small window of opportunity.
Turning the corner, I continued toward the master's chambers. I would knock, I decided. If Hux answered, I would simply say that I wished to speak with him. If he was not there ...
With the stone gargoyles watching mischievously on, I set my fist against the door.
No response.
I rapped again, my heart stuttering to the hollow rhythm.
When minutes passed and there was still no answer, I was forced to conclude that the suite was unoccupied—for the time being. My hand trembled against the brass knob, but it twisted easily in my grasp. Poking my head in, I was greeted to the sight of heavy masculine furniture shrouded in stillness. The room was definitely empty. I took a breath and slipped in. Clicking the door closed behind me, I paused a moment with my back against the cool wood.
My heartbeat surged in response to the implicit danger and the spicy scent of Hux permeating the air. My eyes flew to the large bed on the dais and the wicked glimmer of the mirror mounted atop, and velvet heat brushed over my skin. Shaking off the insanely inopportune feelings, I focused myself on the task at hand. The last time I had seen the Lilin's hair ornament had been upon the carpet by the bed. With faltering movements, I retraced my steps. I crouched. Running my fingers over the silky red fibers, I mimicked the angle at which I'd thrown the flower, followed the imagined trajectory with my eyes ...
On my hands and knees, I scrambled to the bed, peered beneath it.
Nothing. My stomach churned as I scoured the darkness again with desperate eyes. I searched under the bedside chair, a neighboring armoire, then under every piece of furniture where the hair pin might be hiding. My search yielded nothing but a few tumbling dust motes. An itch travelled down my nostrils, ending in a sneeze. Confound it all. Hux must have found the piece. Where would he keep it?
The answer had me rising to my feet a tad too quickly. My head spun as my eyes went to the far poster of the bed. The memory of the ridged wood, the faint yet vibrant click of the hidden mechanism, tingled across my fingertips. He'd store the ornament in the tower; it was the logical place to keep it, along with the sword and other items he needed to keep from the servants' eyes.
Rubbing my still-itching nose, I began to make my way over when I heard approaching footsteps. Panic seized me. I knew that imperious stride, that distinctively brisk pace ... My eyes darted to the door of the adjoining dressing room. I started toward it, then realized it was too far to reach in time. I changed course, dashing for the bath—but he would head there first. I stood, rooted by indecision, in the center of the room.
The door opened.
Inexplicably, I sneezed.
If I hadn't been in such a frenzy, I might have giggled at the startled expression flashing across Hux's face. All thought of laughter faded as his brows descended darkly.
"What in blazes are you doing in here?" he demanded.
My mind blanked. Registering the damp whorls of his hair, the rivulets of water clinging to his coat, I stammered, "D-did it storm again? You l-looked drenched."
"Answer me, Abigail. What business have you in my chambers?" He shut the door with an ominous click and stalked toward me. Despite the chill of riding in the rain, feverish color stained his cheeks and a banked fire glow
ed in his eyes. He emanated a smoldering volatility that had me retreating. There was no sign of the tender lover of the preceding weeks. He who loomed before me was again the brooding master. He gave me no quarter, kept advancing until my own heels collided against the dais.
My pulse throttled as he stopped a whisper away from me. Riding gloves in hand, his boots planted in an aggressive stance, he said in a quiet, foreboding voice, "I am waiting."
I inched a step up, the back of my legs bumping against the end of the bed. Intuitively, I knew not to break contact with those burning blue orbs. To do so would be tantamount to an admission of guilt. In the unpredictable mood he was in, I shuddered to think of the consequences.
Think, Abigail, think.
"I was w-waiting for you," I said breathlessly. "I wanted to t-talk."
His eyelashes flickered. "In here?"
Swallowing, I tried to control the wavering nervousness my voice betrayed. "For privacy. I d-did not know where else we might be undisturbed."
His gaze lowered briefly to my lips. Another tremor travelled over me: fear, yes, but mingled with growing arousal. Despite the gravity of the situation, the smell of him—wet cedar, and leather—inflamed my senses. I caught a whiff of another scent, something earthier, sweeter. Before I could discern its source, his hand shot forward and gripped the poster to my left, effectively caging me on the one side. His other hand, the one that held the black gloves, came to my face. Shivering, I felt the light play of leather against my cheek.
"You wish to be private, do you?" He came closer, so close I had to tip my head back to look into his eyes. The pupils had expanded, ringed by thin rims of stormy blue. I felt my escalating respiration, the press of whalebone against my thrumming flesh. "'Tis a dangerous wish, Abigail, to be alone with the devil."
I suddenly recognized the sweet scent. "H-have you been drinking, Hux?"
He did not answer me. He continued to run the soft leather back and forth against my cheek. The feathery touch was setting my nerves afire; it was clouding my ability to think. To breathe.
"Hux," I tried again. "Did you go to the village tavern? How much did you drink?"
The leather trailed lower, along my jaw, to the sensitive hollow beneath my chin. Beneath my bodice, my nipples drew into tight, tingling points.
"Not nearly enough." His gaze fixated upon my mouth. Before I could react, he lowered his head. The hot, hungry foray of his mouth had me arching against his solid frame. I whimpered, my fingers curling into damp wool. My mouth opened willingly beneath his. He tasted of spirits, of simmering urgency. As the kiss deepened, his lips slanting with brutal force over mine, I realized the passion he had kept under restraint these three weeks.
In an effort to gentle him, I cupped his jaw and forced him to look at me. "I was worried for you," I said softly. "After what happened with Derrick ..." My eyes searched his. "What he said, about him and me. You know that was a lie, don't you?"
His eyes radiated blistering heat. His fingers tightened painfully on my shoulders. "You wouldn't betray me, would you, Abigail?"
Not on purpose. Never to hurt you.
"You are everything I want, Hux," I said, my voice wobbling. "I would never go to anyone else. You must believe me."
"Must I?"
Incendiary blue beams probed into my being. My breath evaporated as anxiety soared. With a breathless sound, I wriggled against his vice-like hold. "Hux, you're hurting me—"
He let go immediately. Self-loathing carved into his lean cheeks. "I warned you, didn't I? 'Tis your own self you should be worried about. You should stay far away from me, Abigail. I am no good for you. Today was only further proof of that."
"Whatever time we have together, I will not regret it," I whispered.
"I could have hurt you in the library," he said flatly. "Could have harmed you as I have everyone else in my life. The darkness in me—I cannot control it. Lilith planted it too deep. It will not be eradicated until I have destroyed her and her spawn."
His words wrought an odd mixture of fear and tender compassion. In halting tones, I said, "I love you, Hux. If you love me, I cannot ask for anything more. The future will bring what it does. We can only live for the moment."
When he did not respond, I reached for him. Desperate to wipe away the bleakness on his face, I employed the tricks he had taught me. I kissed the sullen indent below his bottom lip, seducing that firm ledge with soft licks and naughty nips. Sifting my fingers through the raven layers of his hair, I pulled him closer, my tongue pressing into the seam of his mouth. I tasted him boldly and without shame. I murmured my love to him, over and over. Finally, a growl tore from his throat, a sudden yielding as his lips tangled fiercely with mine. The kiss flared with hungry urgency.
His fingers tugged along my spine. My dress and corset slipped off my shoulders and pooled at my feet. With a deft move, he tumbled my chemise-clad form backward onto the mattress. The pressing weight of him drove me mad with wanting. As he licked the quivering tendon of my neck, I squirmed against his hard form, tried to shove the wet coat off his shoulders. I yearned to touch him, to feel his living skin next to mine.
When his weight suddenly left me, I whimpered in protest. Standing, he looked upon me, his features drawn harsh with passion. My veins throbbed with a restless ache. "Please, Hux, don't stop ..."
"Patience, love, is perhaps the one quality you lack." With a sensual bent to his lips, he began to strip off his clothes. "I am merely getting more comfortable. I don't want to get you wet—not with my clothes, at any rate."
My nostrils quivered at his words, at the sight of his sleek, bared torso. My gaze fell to the damp fabric molded to his hips and legs, and the sight of the substantial bulge in front unleashed a torrid longing. Licking my lips, I said, "Not your trousers, too?"
He laughed darkly. "There's only so much temptation a man can take."
But I wanted him tempted. I wanted him as frenzied for me as I was for him. In this moment, I needed to know he was mine. Scooting over to the edge of the mattress, I knelt in front of him. In this position, my face was nearly level with his. I kissed his jaw, my hands caressing lightly over his taut shoulders and upper arms. Beneath my fingertips, the bunched sinew flexed in response.
"Abigail, my sweet," he rasped, his hand coming to cup my shoulder. "Be a good girl and lie back. I will tend to your pleasure."
Shaking my head, I whispered, "I want to tend to yours."
I molded my palms to his chest, reveling in the contrast of textures: the dark wiry hair, the smooth firm skin. So different from me. I raked my nails gently over his flat nipples and saw with satisfaction how they hardened immediately. Different, yet not so different. "You liked it well enough the last time, didn't you?" I said sultrily.
His eyes grew unfocused as my touch travelled lower, bumping over the tight, corrugated plane of his abdomen. "You know full well I did, you little tease. But I want to see to you. We haven't much time,"—his breath hissed out as I undid the fastenings of his trousers—"before Donovan comes to set up the bath ..."
His words ended in a groan as I freed his shaft. Wrapping my fingers around the pulsing thickness, I began to work the velvet-soft skin over its iron core. Feminine pride blossomed at the sound of his ragged breathing, at the reflexive thrust of his hips into my grasp.
"I'll try to be efficient, then," I said, pumping him harder. "As you've oft commented, it is one of my finer qualities."
His response was a husky, groaning laugh.
Excitement flooded my belly as I continued to caress his turgid cock. I felt dizzy with the pleasure I was giving him, the power of my small hands over his rearing magnificence. A sudden image blazed in my head. Of his dark head between my thighs, of his decadent marauding over my quivering, damp flesh ... My quim fluttered in memory of that voluptuous delight. Could I do the same for him? My heart thumping, I leaned down and kissed the boldly flaring tip.
"Bloody fuck."
His stunned oath shot up my conf
idence. Wild with love, with the pulsing need to bring him bliss, I kissed him again. This time I let my tongue swirl over the engorged head. He tasted delicious, of salt and virile essence. He hissed my name, his hands coming to my hair. I thought he meant to push me away, and I resisted. Instead his fingers dug against my scalp, guiding me, teaching me the rhythm of his joy.
Eager to learn, I strove to follow his ragged instructions. Open for me, let me in ... I struggled take him deeper, my cheeks hollowing to the sounds of his panted groans. Sweet Jesus, yes, just like that, suck me deep ... My senses whirled as I learned to breathe with the proud heat of him lodging against my silken tissues. Every cell saturated with his taste, his feel, the sounds of his pleasure. Beneath my fingertips, the flexing hollows of his buttocks grew slick with strain. Feral noises tore from his throat; I'd stripped the civil inhibitions from him completely. With his head thrown back and eyes closed, he held my head in place as he invaded me in this new and titillating way.
Wetness flushed between my thighs, and I moaned around his flesh. The gargled sound drew a shuddering reaction from him. Pulling free of my lips, he pushed my back to the mattress. Before I could catch my breath, the hem of my chemise was shoved above my waist. I heard my drawers ripping and then his mouth descended upon me, savage and scalding. The typhoon of sensation blasted through me, and I cried out. A large hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my sobs as his tongue drove into me again and again.
I quaked as he feasted upon my intimate flesh. He was insatiable, unstoppable. He licked me inside, outside, each assault of his tongue tautening the tension in my belly, my thighs. His growling demands shimmied down my spine. Give me your nectar, let me taste how sweet and ready you are ... My legs tightened as he found the quivering knot, the pinnacle of sensation, and began flicking it with fierce insistence. My head rolled against the covers, my gaze suddenly snagging on the reflection overhead.
The wanton creature was writhing, her lover's dark head between her thighs. With her lips swollen and her breasts flushed and rose-tipped, she rose against his mouth with passionate abandon. She seemed wild, unrecognizable. But not evil ... just powerfully free. Excitement bled through me with an intensity akin to pain. My breath puffed heavy and moist against his palm. Please, Hux, please ...
Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1) Page 25
